


Hunting With Hallucifer

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bigpretzel, Crack, Evil Witches, Gen, Hallucifer, Lucifer is (mostly) unhelpful, Lucifer is a dick, Sam is long-suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing worse than hunting solo and being caught by witches, was hunting with Lucifer as your hunting buddy and being caught by witches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting With Hallucifer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mandraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandraco/gifts).



> I wrote this nearly a year ago, now, for the Spring Fic Exchange at spn_bigpretzel on livejournal, under my LJ username of aceofannwn. It was in response to a prompt by mandraco. The awesome banner was by angelus2hot on LJ.
> 
> I kind of forgot about it until now. It's a lot funnier than I remembered.

****

* * *

Sam struggles unsuccessfully with his bindings. There's a knife in his boot if he could just get to it. The whackjobs responsible for tying him up in the first place will be back any minute, and seeing as they plan to sacrifice him, Sam would really like to be gone by then. 

"I did tell you it was witches, Sam." 

Sam stops his efforts to work his fingers into the side of his shoe for a minute and pauses to glare at his indentured hunting partner. 

"No, you said _a_ witch," Sam corrects furiously. " _A_ witch, implying one witch, singular. At no point did you mention that it was a _group_ of witches!" 

Sam might be shouting, just a little. 

Lucifer inclines his head, gracefully acknowledging error. 

"My bad," he concedes. 

Sam hisses in frustration, and goes back to trying to get his knife out of his boot.

He still isn’t sure exactly what Lucifer is; whether he’s a hallucination or a fragment of leftover Grace or even the real deal. All that Sam knows is that no one else can see, hear, or touch him, and occasionally Lucifer can be helpful, if he feels like it.

Nothing entertains him more than getting under Sam’s skin, semi-truce or not. He’s like one of those really annoying, kind-of-helpful-but-not guides you get in computer games, the ones who state the obvious or give useless advice and just generally irritate the shit out of the player.

Sam would love to just completely ignore Lucifer, except that sometimes? He tells Sam things he actually needs to know. Which leaves Sam with the kind of assistance that’s about as likely to get him eaten by a grue as it is help him navigate the Underground Empire - to extend the computer game metaphor a little further.

Sam’s fingertips make contact with the knife.

“They’re coming back,” Lucifer informs Sam idly.

Sam curses.

“Then do something useful!” he cries in exasperation.

Lucifer smiles, and the door lock clicks like someone’s turned a key.

“You should listen to your brother about hunting alone,” the Devil says.

“Yeah, except that I’m not actually alone,” Sam replies, trying to saw the knife against the rope binding him. “Unfortunately.”

Sam adjusts his grip on the knife, trying to hold it better so that it cuts through the rope properly, and not, you know, an artery.

Someone tries to open the door, rattling the handle when it proves to be locked. There’s cursing, and a mutter of a spell, and the lock unclicks.

Lucifer strolls over and casually leans back against the door just as it opens, crushing someone’s hand in-between the door and the door jamb.

There’s a feminine scream of pain.

“Better hurry, Sam,” Lucifer advises, as the witch on the other side of the door shrieks blue murder and hits the door repeatedly, presumably trying to force it open enough to free her hand.

Lucifer looks like he’s enjoying this way too much.

Sam redoubles his efforts, and slowly slices through the rope binding his wrists. With a sigh of relief he takes a proper grasp of the knife and cuts through the rope around his ankles.

He unfolds to his full height, knife in hand, and looks to the door, where from the sound of things the entire coven is now trying to free the trapped witch’s hands.

“Uh, any ideas how to handle an entire coven of angry witches at once?” Sam asks Lucifer, because it’s not as though he has many resources, here.

“Sam,” Lucifer replies condescendingly, “I can’t do everything for you, you know. Last time I checked, I’m not your babysitter.”

That’s Lucifer-speak for _I find it far more amusing to watch you flounder around by yourself._

“You are _such_ a dick,” Sam says fervently.

Lucifer grins, and steps away from the door.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” Sam says, as the door bursts open.

The witches weren’t expecting this, apparently, as instead of storming in as an angry mob they spill in over the floor like a group of downed skittles.

Sam decides that he’ll take what he can get and dashes over them before they can recover, and wonders when his life became such a farce.

If his life were a movie, it would definitely be an oddball comedy, he thinks, and then tells himself to focus on _getting the hell out of here._

Sam’s almost at the front door when it flies open and miracle of miracles, there’s Dean.

“Sam!” he barks, looking alarmed and relieved at once.

“ _Get him!_ ”

And there’s the witches.

“They look pissed,” Lucifer notes.

“Shit!” says Dean, eyes widening.

“Run!” Sam yells, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and running, because this is FUBAR and he’d like to get out alive, forget about taking care of the coven right now.

They run.

* * *

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean explodes, once they’re more or less safe. “You know better than to go off on your own like that! What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

He is, of course, unaware that Lucifer is smugly saying the words along with him in a patronising voice.

There are times when Sam really wishes it were possible to punch Lucifer in the face. 

This is one of them.

Dean chews Sam out about his stupidity for another ten minutes or so, and Sam accepts it grudgingly, because he knows Dean is right.

It’s just a little hard to take when Lucifer is there nodding his head in sympathetic disappointment and making agreeing noises.

Once again, Sam wishes he could punch Lucifer in the face. Just _once_.

Lucifer smirks at him until Dean finally calms down.

When Sam turns, Lucifer is gone again.

Sam doesn’t feel anything in particular about this fact, not anger or disappointment, or anything else.

Lucifer will be back. He always comes back.

* * *

Three hours later Sam suddenly feels a sense of presence at his back, and hears a surprised noise from Lucifer.

He turns around to look at his own personal haunting, wondering about Lucifer’s reaction and what caused it.

Only to find that not one, but two archangels are standing behind him.

“Hey, Sam,” Gabriel grins, far too bright. “How’s it hanging?”

“ _Oh, for crying out loud!_ ” Sam yells.


End file.
